The blue planet is barely surviving as walkers take over this world; inhaling and exhaling intoxicated oxygen caused by the living dead was a normal thing for all of us now. The eroding road started to emit steam, as we walk with beads of sweat drip...
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E V E L Y N
It was almost inconceivable. I still recall that day. The resound of my tattered boots came in contact with the crepitating doorsteps to a farmer's home. My body was smothered in fresh dried blood splotches that enwrapped my preteen body like a blanket.
Oily matted unkempt pale yellow hair, deformed grimy finger nails, gaunt body despite enduring through adolescence.
Filthy dark grainy dirt smeared on my face. Numerous beads of sweat laid on parts of my body that were bare.
The unusual beguiling petrichor scent of the home was nearly nostalgic-like. My nostrils were so acclimated to the abominable fetid smell, my nostrils could barely identify any pleasant aroma.
There were a greater number of the dead walking on this planet rather than humans; there were more of them.
Their dreadful harsh moans—eagerly seeking for human flesh from dusk til dawn that taunts you in your sleep.
Eyeing them as they dig their decayed carnassial teeth into fresh flesh. Whether it's human or animal flesh, it didn't matter to them.
Hell, I don't even recall how long i've been here. Nothing pleasant is left besides memories.
This is how it is now. Getting bitten means definite death and possible reanimation. The world had decided to go downhill and create a final ending for humanity. This apocalypse tore down over half of humanity, to remain alive this long would be considered lucky.
Your chances of survival resulted by a bite wound caused by a walker could nearly be unthinkable, however, only very few of those had survived.
To stop running in the middle of the rough sun baked road would put your life on a severely dangerous level of risk to live. The only friend you could put one hundred percent of your trust in is a sharpened pocket knife.
Devotion is the last thing you'll expect from anyone. This world is now laced with such hatred. You can't depend upon anyone besides yourself, viciousness was taking over in our poor daisy-fresh souls. The foul malodorous smell was nothing we never got used to within time—the smell of human flesh putrefying and the irksome yet eerie sounds of the undead that set shivers down your spine.
It has been an entire year since the epidemic broke out, I never would've envisioned it had worsened until I experienced it. Day by day, without food neither nor water in my empty stomach, never more so tired and frightened. This was an inescapable, mire tragedy we had to witness. Or at least some of us.
